Joshua
absently picked up a glass and gave it another wipe with a ragged,
grey, stained cloth.

Harold nodded his
head thoughtfully. “Same in the store,” he added.

“It’s
at times like this that I wish I owned a smaller place,” said
Joshua. “At least then it would look
busier.”

Harold
laughed lightly, his developing jowls wobbling. He straightened up
from resting his back on the counter and turned to face Joshua.

“I’ll have
another,” he said.

Joshua
refilled his shot glass with whiskey.

Harold
raised it and stared reflectively through the amber liquid.

“Thank
the Lord for our regular customers,” he pronounced.

“Pray that we get
more than are here today.”

“Don’t
worry Josh, there’s less than a month until the next cattle market.
Then numbers will pick up again. Not that you need to worry anymore,
what with you getting that reward, and all.”

Joshua
ignored the comment about the reward. “Next market won’t be as
large or exciting as the last one. That has to have been the most
exciting cattle market ever in the history of Wellhead.”

Harold laughed. “I
reckon you’re right there.”

They
were distracted by a flash of sunlight reflected from a new pane of
glass that was being fitted within one of the saloon’s large window
frames.

“When did you say
the third window would arrive?”

Harold frowned.
“Supplier said a week, maybe two.”

Joshua
tutted. “I was hoping to be able to remove that last board from the
window sooner than that to let the light in.”

“You’re
lucky I was able to fix two of your windows at such short notice.
They’re big windows, Joshua. Those two took up almost my entire
supply of glass. Lucky for you I had two big panes available. With
all three windows shot to pieces, you should have taken the
opportunity to sub-divide them with cross frames so you could use
smaller panes.”

Joshua shrugged.
“I’ve been here longer than I can recall and I’ve never had one
window smashed, let alone three in one day. I reckon the chances of
that happening again are pretty slim. And I like having big windows.
It lets more light in and feels less like a jail.”

“When did you ever
experience the inside of a jail?”

“I haven’t, I’m
just guessing.”

Harold
gave him a shrewd look, but rather than probe, he asked, “What if
those bounty hunters turn up again? Then your windows will get all
shot up again and you’ll have to get more new ones. I reckon I
should order three in and charge you for their storage.”

Joshua harrumphed.
“I could store them myself, out back.”

“You could, I
suppose.”

“And
anyway, if they did return, there’d be fewer of them. They got
pretty shot up.”

“That they did.”

The two men fell
into silent reflection for a moment. Then Harold chuckled and said,
“Do you remember the day Scully and Tidy turned up in Wellhead?”

“I sure do,”
chortled Joshua.

“It all seemed so
innocent to start with,” said Harold. “I mean, Wellhead, being a
cattle market town, is used to strangers.”

“Hmm,”
hummed Joshua unconvinced. “You should have seen the reaction of
the men in the saloon when Scully walked in. You could have heard a
pin drop. It was as if there was some aura about him. It was obvious
that there was something different about him. For a start, he was
dressed as a priest.”

Harold
laughed gleefully, his white teeth glowing in the gloom of the
saloon.

“The
irony of his disguise will always tickle me,” he proclaimed. “And
Tidy, dressed up like some eastern dandy. We should have known
something was about to happen.”

“That
was a bit more realistic. Tidy might have passed as a cattle agent
from some east coast town.”

“Ah no, the man
knew nothing about cattle. That was clear, just from looking at him.
He had soft hands, for a start.”

“True,
I suppose, but he did like his bourbon.”

“You got any of
that left,” asked Harold, with a knowing look.

“No,”
Joshua replied quickly. His eyes flicked to the quarter bottle
stashed under his counter.

Harold turned to
rest his back on the counter again.

“Lying bastard,”
he said.

Joshua
grinned at the back of Harold’s head.

“Well their
arrival certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons,” he said.

“That
it did,” agreed Harold. “It heralded the biggest number of
gunfights Wellhead has ever witnessed.”

Joshua
grunted. “Well, that wasn’t difficult. Up until then, there had
never been a proper gunfight in the town.”

“True,”
nodded Harold. “But, I reckon most places would be pushed to beat
five gunfights over
a period of just four days.”

Joshua
sniggered. “And don’t forget the shooting in the brothel. And
that by a woman.”

Harold shook his
head. “What is the world coming to?”

“Well, when a gang
of bounty hunters meets up with a gang of bank robbers, I suppose you
have to expect something exciting to happen.”

“That you do.”

Harold
turned back to Joshua and held his glass out for a refill.

“I
suppose,” he said with a toothy grin, “we should be proud that
the Parker Gang showed any interest in Wellhead.”

“Well,
the gunfights certainly put us on the map. Maybe we’ll get people
coming around to see where it happened, like they do at Tombstone.”

“That would be
good. Maybe I should get a photograph made of me with Richard Parker
before the Marshall arrives to take him and the other fellow from the
gang to Dodge for trial. What was his name?”

“Marcus
Spencer.”

“I thought that
was the one you shot.”

“No,
Samuel Thruxton shot him. I shot John Dunford.”

“Aha,
yes. Wish I’d snatched him. Could have done with the reward.” He
turned beady eyes on Joshua. “What you going to do with the money?”

“Do this place up
a bit. Buy a few dresses for Cecile.”

“Damn right you
should. Your wife deserves a new dress or two, having had to put up
with you all these years. You make sure,” he waggled a friendly
finger at Joshua, “that you buy them through me. Need to spread
some of your good fortune around the town a bit.”

Joshua laughed,
flashing his irregular teeth at Harold.

“Yes
sir!” he said. “You know when the Marshall will be here to
collect Parker and Spencer?”

Joshua
frowned. “It’s a possibility, I s’pose. What about that
Blessett boy?”

“Robert?
He’s just murderous scum. Most likely he’ll be dealt with by a
circuit judge, next time one passes through.”

“Makes sense.”

Joshua
looked across as two men walked into the saloon.

“Finished,
boss,” one of them proclaimed.

“Good,” said
Harold.

He knocked back his
whiskey.

“See you later,
Josh.”

“See
you later. And thanks for the panes. I’ll come by later to pay for
them.”

“Sure thing.”

Harold
and his two men trooped out of the saloon. The saloon doors squeaked
and then fell silent. Maybe, thought Joshua, he’d oil the doors
when he did the place up. He picked up another clean glass, gave it a
wipe and sighed. The bounty hunters were now gone and, after all the
excitement, life in Wellhead had quickly settled back into its
normal, slumbering routine. Now, the only matter of interest that the
townsfolk had to look forward to was the arrival of the Marshal to
collect the two members of the Parker Gang and the trial of Robert
Blessett. The squeak of the bat wing doors at the entrance to his
saloon brought Joshua from his reflections. He turned to look at his
new customer.

2

The
man was dressed entirely in black and stood starkly silhouetted
against the bright, late-morning sunlight. His blackness felt ominous
and seemed to seep menacingly into the room. A shiver ran down
Joshua’s spine. Joshua’s customers, used to seeing strangers in
town, were also stilled into silence and turned cautiously to stare
at the stranger.

A
black bandana covered his nose and mouth. From beneath his black hat,
a shock of white hair cascaded onto his shoulders and, even within
the shadow of the wide brim of his hat, that part of his face visible
above the bandana was as white as the bark of a birch tree.

He
stepped into the saloon and walked as silently as a ghost across the
wooden floor boards, even his spurs made no sound. Joshua glanced
apprehensively at the man’s feet, as if to make sure that he was
actually making contact with the ground.

As
the man came towards Joshua, he pulled the bandana from his face. His
features were milky-white, gaunt and bony – skeletal in appearance.
His skin seemed to be translucent. Joshua got the sense that he could
see through to the very bones within the man’s face. But he was no
albino, for his eyes were ice-blue in colour and they fixed Joshua
with a cold, wolf-like stare.

Joshua,
although considerably broader than the man, took an involuntary step
back as he halted before him. Joshua’s eyes dropped to the pair of
pearl-handled Colts that hung on the man’s hips, their pale grips
seemed to be as white as his skin. Joshua dragged his eyes from the
weapons to the stranger’s face.

Louis
Syffere smiled. The effect was transforming. The ice melted from his
eyes. They sparkled like bright sapphires. His face radiated
friendliness, but the sudden adjustment in his demeanour still left
Joshua with an uneasy feeling about his intentions.

“May
I have a beer? It’s hot as an oven out there.”

“Of
…of course, sir.”

Joshua
ducked behind the bar and searched for his coolest bottle of beer
from the shelves under the counter.

“You visiting
someone in town?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

“In
a manner of speaking,” said his pallid customer, “but I’m
really here on business.”

Joshua
straightened up, bottle in hand.

“Well,
you’ve missed the cattle market,” he observed, in a friendly
manner, to encourage further disclosure from his customer.

Louis’ face
remained inscrutable.

Joshua
popped the cap from the bottle and took a glass from the shelf below
the counter. Louis held up his hand. Looking at the grey cloth
hanging from Joshua’s shoulder, he was not convinced about
how sanitary
the
glass was.

“The bottle will
be fine.”

“Oh?
…Okay.”

Joshua placed the
bottle on the counter.

Louis
removed a black leather glove. The contrasting whiteness of his hand
was startling. It was threaded with pale blue veins. Louis noticed
Joshua’s interest in his complexion.

“I
have a hereditary skin condition,” he declared. “Similar to
albinism. My skin is very sensitive to sunlight; hence all the black
clothing.”

“Sorry,”
Joshua mumbled, “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Louis
shrugged. He took a mouthful of beer. He looked towards the saloon
entrance.

“I see you’ve
had some action in town.”

Joshua
raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“The
boardwalk in front of your saloon is stained with blood, lots of
blood, and the front of your saloon is peppered with bullet holes.”

“Yes
we have, Mister …Umm?”

Louis
studied Joshua’s face as he answered. “Syffere, Louis Syffere.”

Joshua’s
features showed no recognition of the name. Louis was satisfied. He
always took care not to leave too many witnesses to his crimes. That
way his name did not get around. That way he could remain more
anonymous. Of course, he was well known in some parts of the country,
but not, apparently, in Wellhead.

“We
have indeed had some action, Mister Syffere, more excitement in the
last four days than in the rest of Wellhead’s entire history. We
had a bunch of outlaws turn up. Some of them got away, but we got the
better of them. Killed one of them myself. Got a good reward for him
too.”

The
look on Louis’ face made Joshua wonder if he should have admitted
to having killed one of the gang members. But the look vanished as
quickly as it had appeared.

“Did
this gang of outlaws have a name?”

“The Parker Gang.”

Louis
nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of them. They’re led by a Richard
Parker and his brother Billy.”

“They were, but …”

“Were? Is Richard
Parker dead?”

“Oh, no, he’s in
the jail and …”

“In the jail,
huh?”

“Yes.
We’re expecting the marshal to arrive any day soon. Parker’s to
be taken back to Dodge for trial. Everyone is of the opinion that
he’ll hang.”

“I’m sure he
will, if he gets there.”

“You know him?”

“Only by
reputation.”

Louis
lifted his bottle in salute, “Your good health.”

He
picked up his glove and turned before Joshua could respond. He walked
silently to the back of the saloon to a table in the shadows of the
first floor balcony. He sat down with his back to the wall. He took
off his hat and quietly studied the saloon entrance. He remained so
still that it seemed as though he had gone into a trance.

3

Things
must have gone seriously wrong for Richard Parker and his gang,
pondered Louis. So bad, in fact, that he’d had to come into town –
that was a first.

He
had been acting as the fall-back position for Richard Parker’s
plans for longer than he cared to remember and had never had to get
involved before. What happened to Richard must have been dramatic and
completely unexpected. He glanced over at the burly barman. He could
have got more detail from him, he supposed, but he had got the key
information he needed – that Richard Parker was alive, albeit in
prison; that was a first as well. He would get the low-down about
what happened from Richard soon enough, but the fact that Richard
Parker planned his raids and robberies with infinite care and an
obsession to detail meant that they normally went off without a
hitch. In addition, the fact that Richard selected only the best and
most hardened gunmen for his gang usually meant that, even when there
was a gun-fight, they were usually able to shoot themselves out of a
situation. Sure the gang had lost a few members in the past, but that
was only to be expected, given the type of business in which they
were involved. Well, things seemed to have got out of hand this time
and he, as the insurance for when the unexpected did happen, now had
a job to do.

Louis
knocked back the last of his beer and stood up. He pulled on his hat
and strode out of the saloon.

4

Louis
turned left out of the saloon and walked along the wooden boardwalk.
Other than the creak of the boards under his weight, his footfall was
silent. He lifted his bandana back up over his mouth and nose. His
warm breath bathed his cheeks in the restricted space behind the
material.

Checking
the road briefly, he stepped off the boardwalk and paced diagonally
across the dusty main road towards the livery stable. To his left was
the Grand Hotel. A young woman with sleek, ebony hair was standing in
front of the hotel entrance, speaking to a boy. A small white dog, a
black patch on its back like a saddle, sat obediently at the boy’s
feet. The woman’s glance seemed to drift across the road towards
Louis. He saw her straighten up from her conversation and gaze across
at him. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. He
ignored her. He was used to people staring at him. He strolled into
the cold shadow of the livery stable and on through the large open
doorway, again pulling his bandana from his face.

A
man was checking some saddles slung over the top of a partition
between two stalls. Louis, noting he did not carry any guns, walked
straight up to him.

“You the livery
owner?”

“Merde!”
exclaimed Philippe Rousseau as he swung
around. “You should not creep up on people like that!”

“Why,
what might you do? Shoot me?” said Louis, with a hint of irony in
his voice.

“Well,
no, of course not, but …” Philippe paused. Having got over his
initial shock he now scanned the milk-white features with surprised
eyes.

“You
the owner?” repeated Louis.

“Yes.”

“I hear the Parker
Gang was in town.”

“They were.”

“And that they got
caught.”

“Some of them did,
yes.”

“I assume the
sheriff has left their horses with you.”

“Yes,
some of them.”

“Some?
How many you got?”

“Five.”

Louis
eyes bored into Philippe. Five? Nine members of the Parker Gang rode
into Wellhead and none had rendezvoused with him after the bank
robbery. So where were the other four?

Philippe cleared his
throat uncomfortably.

“Why
do you ask?” he said.

“Because,”
said Louis slowly, “I hear that the Parker Gang took good care of
their horses.”

“That they did.”

“And
I’m a horse dealer, so I’m always on the lookout for good horses.
Where are they?”

“Out
the back. This way,” Philippe gesticulated.

Louis
followed the livery owner out of the stable through a large doorway.
He pulled his bandana up to protect his face against the fierce late
morning sun. They walked towards a corral located in a large yard
behind the stable block. A small herd of a dozen horses trotted
around the wooden perimeter fence. Although he recognised the animals
immediately, Louis allowed Philippe to point out the five Parker Gang
horses. Louis made a show of watching them for a few minutes.

“How much for
them?”

“All five?”

“All five.”

Philippe
stared ahead, contemplatively.

“One-twenty-five a
piece,” he said as though talking to the horses.

Louis
shook his head. “They’re good animals, but not that good.”

Philippe waited.

“Four fifty,”
said Louis.

Philippe
shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

Louis
watched the horses again. They were very fine beasts, but then he
already knew that.

“Okay five-fifty,
but I want the saddles and all their gear.”

Philippe frowned at
the horses. He turned and extended his hand.

“Done.”

Louis
took his hand. Philippe flinched slightly. Louis’ grip was
self-assured and firm with just a sufficient hint of him
being in command to make Philippe feel
distinctly intimidated. It reminded him of
the grip of someone else, someone who had not been entirely pleasant.
Surely the similarity was a coincidence?

“Saddle
them up, ready for riding,” Louis requested.

Philippe looked at
him.

“The
way I operate,” said Louis, “I like to have my horses ready for
any prospective buyer to try them immediately. It cuts down on the
bargaining time.” He turned from the corral and as he walked away,
added, “I’ll be back in ten minutes with your money. Have them
ready for me.”

5

Louis
retraced his steps through the barn and turned left up Main Street.
He crossed Stable Road, stepped up onto the boardwalk and continued
along the main road past the bakery. On the other side of the road
were the saloon, the general store and then the sheriff’s office
and jail. Perfect, he thought.

He
would tie the horses to the long tethering rail in front of the
store, as close to the sheriff’s office as possible, because having
six horses immediately in front of the office might seem a bit
strange and might get people thinking that something was going on
inside. The last thing Louis wanted was people getting nosy about
what he was up to.

The
other advantage of using the store’s tethering rail was that there
was a back-street immediately opposite it, down which he and Richard
could make their escape. Of course, as was his usual practice, he had
already tethered his own horse in front of the store; it was the most
innocuous place for a stranger to tie his horse and least likely to
raise interest from locals.

A
final scan of the streets and a quick look down the backstreet to
confirm it was not a dead-end satisfied Louis. He then returned to
the livery stable.

6

“I
don’t know,” said Joshua as he checked the saddle on one of
Louis’ recently purchased horses, “there is something very
strange about that white man.”

“He certainly
looks unusual,” agreed Philippe.

“That’s
for sure, but I reckon he’s up to something. That’s why I came
over to see if he said anything to you.”

“Nothing
unusual, but I’m glad you came over. Without your help, I’d not
have been able to get these horses saddled up in time.”

“Glad
to be able to help,” Joshua replied, then, in a whisper, he added,
“Look out, here he comes.”

Philippe looked up.

“Mister
Syffere,” Joshua greeted the approaching man.

Louis gave him a nod
and seemed to examine his face as though looking for clues as to why
the saloon owner was in the livery stable.

“All
done, Mister Syffere. They’re ready for you, as requested.”

Louis
passed his eye quickly over the five horses that were now tethered to
the corral fence. He took out his wallet and counted out five hundred
and fifty dollars. He offered it to Philippe. “It’s been good
doing business with you.”

Philippe
took the notes. “Likewise, Mister Syffere.”

He
shoved the money into his jeans’ pocket.

Louis
gathered the reins, and tipped the brim of his hat. “Gentlemen,”
he said, and led the horses away.

Joshua scowled at
the departing man. He shook his head slowly.

“That fellow is
definitely up to something. Get your gun, Philippe.”

“You know I don’t
carry guns.”

“Of course I do. I
meant your hunting rifle.”

“Whatever for?”

“I
don’t know, but I can feel my nerves tingling. The sheriff may need
our help.”

“Now,
Joshua, you know my views on violence. You should not expect us
townsfolk to get involved in dealing with outlaws and their like.
That’s for the sheriff to deal with. What can we do? Taking up
weapons against those sorts of men will only make things worse.”

“I’ll
tell you what we can do. We can help by defending Wellhead against
these bandits
that keep appearing in our
town. We need to show them that they’re not going to intimidate us.
Get your rifle, Philippe. You need to take responsibility for the
protection of your town, just like the rest of us. Meet me back in
the saloon. Something big is about to happen.”

He strode off before
Philippe could argue.

7

Louis
tethered the horses beside his own. He was aware of a man, leaning on
the tethering post in front of the sheriff’s office, watching him.
Louis surreptitiously returned the favour.

Although
Louis could not see the man’s badge, his relaxed and confident
manner and the way in which he surveyed the town, with that demeanour
of being in charge, suggested to Louis that he was the sheriff. Louis
studied him. His belly was starting to creep over his belt and his
jowls were starting to sag. Louis noted that he was a man beyond his
prime.

Having
carefully checked that each rein would release with the minimum
effort, Louis walked a little way down the street and went into the
bakery. He bought himself a small pie and came out again. He had
intended to sit on the bench in front of the bakery and furtively
watch the sheriff, but the seat was now occupied by a pair of old
women, who were deep in conversation. They gave him a quick
appraising look and then their eyes returned and gave him a more
scrutinising examination. He tipped his hat at them.

“Ladies.”

They
gave him curious smiles and put their heads back together.

Next
to them stood a much younger girl, with a skin like burnished bronze.

“Ma’am.”

She
gave him a mischievous grin that suggested she knew exactly what he
was up to. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He
narrowed his eyes at her, but she simply bowed her head and continued
listening to the gossiping women.

He
shook his head to clear the strange sensation, leant against a post
holding up the boardwalk canopy and nonchalantly chewed on his pie.
Whilst taking care not to stare in the direction of the sheriff, he
kept him an eye on him at all times.

The
saloon was diagonally opposite the bakery on the other side of the
road. A man was perched on the tethering rail, facing the store and
talking to a young boy. The man had his back to Louis, but the boy
was facing him. Louis recognised him as the boy who had been talking
to the woman outside the hotel. The dog was standing on its hind
legs, its front feet on the man’s thigh. The man was scratching it
behind its left ear. It was a tableau of small-town folk whiling away
their time. He watched them for a spell, but they did not seem to be
taking any interest in him.

Louis
stood outside the bakery for a good ten minutes and was about to
move, in case his loitering started to look suspicious, when the
sheriff stood up from the rail, stretched and walked into his office.
Louis waited another five minutes. No-one came out of the building,
nor went in. He pushed himself from the post and walked casually
towards the sheriff’s office.

8

Samuel
Thruxton continued talking to his young companion, Bradley Dwyer, but
kept his eyes fixed on the reflection of the man, swathed in black,
that he could see in the shiny new window pane of the saloon. As soon
as he was convinced that the man had walked far enough past so that
he could no longer see himself or Brad, Samuel slipped from the
tethering rail and walked quickly into the saloon towards a table
around which four men were gathered.

“He’s
heading for the sheriff’s office,” he announced.

“I
knew it,” said Joshua, emphatically.

Philippe shook his
head in frustration.

“You
know nothing, Joshua. Mister Syffere’s visit to the sheriff could
be completely innocent, a business meeting, perhaps?”

“Well,
it is a bit strange that he waited for fifteen minutes, with the
sheriff standing outside his office and only went in once the sheriff
did.”

“So
tell me, Philippe,” asked Joshua, “why would he wait outside for
fifteen minutes and not just go right up to him and say, ‘Hello
sheriff, let’s do business.’. Explain that to me … to us.” He
gesticulated at the men gathered around the table.

Philippe shrugged.
“I don’t know. Maybe he did not realise he was the sheriff.”

Joshua
grunted, unconvinced. He looked at Samuel.

“So
Syffere only went to the office after the sheriff had gone in?”

Samuel nodded.

Joshua grunted
again. “Must be very private business he wants to talk about,” he
said sarcastically. “No, the man is definitely up to something.”
He scanned the faces of the five men. “We need to go in there and
stop whatever it is he’s doing.”

“But what could it
be?” persisted Philippe.

“Oh,
how would I know? Maybe he’s going to release Richard Parker,” he
said flippantly. Then his eyes grew as big as saucers. “Oh, my
God,” he said slowly as realisation dawned on him. The others
stared at him, startled. “Come on! Let’s go!” He picked up his
shotgun and stood up.

“Wait!”
said Philippe sharply, grabbing Joshua’s arm. “We can’t just go
barging in. We’re facing expert gunmen. You know the reputation of
the Parker Gang. And we’ve seen what they can do, just recently. If
we storm in there, some of us will get killed, maybe all of us. And
what purpose would that serve?”

There was a mumble
of agreement around the table. Joshua looked at the faces in front of
him. They were obviously not up for his gung-ho approach. He sat down
again, thumping his gun on the table.

“Okay,”
he said sardonically, “What do you suggest we do?”

Philippe shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’m not a military man.”

“I
suggest,” said Harold Timms, “that we position ourselves in the
bank. It’s opposite the sheriff’s office and made of brick, so
we’ll be well protected. Would that be okay Clarence?” he asked
the bank manager.

Clarence
Holsworth looked startled. “I … I suppose so.”

“There
you go,” continued Harold. “And as soon as the man appears, we’ll
shoot him.”

“What?”
choked Phillipe. “You can’t just shoot Mister Syffere, just
because you think he’s up to something!”

“Well,
we can’t wait or we’ll lose the initiative,” countered Harold.
“And we need the element of surprise if we are to win against
hardened criminals.”

“We
don’t even know if he is a hardened criminal,” said Philippe with
exasperation.

“Well
then, what do we do?”

“I could help,”
said a small voice.

Everyone looked at
Bradley.

Joshua smiled at
him.

“Now
Brad, I know you want to be helpful, but this is not something you
can help us with. You’re not old enough.”

“But, I …”

Joshua held up his
hand. “Shoo, Brad. We need to think of a plan.”

Silence.

“Come on fellas,”
Joshua encouraged his comrades-in-arms.

Silence.

“I suggest we hear
Brad out,” said Samuel. “Since he seems to be the only one here
with an idea.”

Joshua looked at the
kid. He sighed.

“Okay
Brad, what’s your plan?”

Bradley pushed
forward and looked Joshua earnestly in the eye.

“I could find out
if the man is an outlaw or not.”

“Okay,” said
Joshua slowly. “How?”

“You
go and hide in the bank and I will go into the sheriff’s office and
find out what is going on. Then I come out and tell you.”

Joshua
struggled to stop grinning at the boy.

“Usually,
that would be a very good
plan, Brad,” he said patronisingly, “but I don’t think it would
work today.”

“Why?”

“Well,
if everything is fine, then it would work, but if the man is an
outlaw then he might hurt you for being nosy.”

Bradley
frowned. “But one of the Parker Gang was my friend. Remember?”

“I
do, Brad, but Mister Syffere probably doesn’t know that, so he
would most likely be angry at you butting in. So we’ll need to
think of another …”

“Hold on, Josh,”
said Samuel. “It might work.”

“You’re kidding
me.”

“No.”
He looked at the boy. “Brad, are you happy to go into the sheriff’s
office, even if the man is an outlaw?”

Bradley
shrugged. “Sure, he doesn’t scare me.”

“Hey,
hey, hey!” said Joshua. “We can’t send a kid in there! It’s
wrong and anyway Martha would be livid if she found out.”

“Mum
will be fine about it,” said Bradley, matter-of-factly. “She
never knows where I am most of the time, anyway.”

“Still,”
insisted Joshua, “it’s not right.”

“Look,”
said Samuel, “we can’t go in ourselves and even once we’ve got
the sheriff’s office covered from the bank, we still do not know
what we’re dealing with. If Brad goes in, maybe to deliver
something to the sheriff, he could help. If nothing is wrong he can
come straight out. If something is going on …well … he will
probably not be allowed out, but …”

“Exactly,”
interrupted Joshua. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m sure Brad
will be fine,” said Philippe.

“Philippe,
I’m surprised that you
think so!”

“Look, Joshua,
no-one is going to harm a kid, not even a hardened criminal.”

Joshua gave him an
exaggerated look of disbelief. “What makes you so sure?”

“Human
nature. If Mister Syffere is planning to release Richard Parker, then
he’ll probably lock the sheriff in one of the cells. When Brad
turns up, he’ll simply put Brad in with the sheriff.” He turned
to Bradley. “I think it’s a good idea, Brad, and you are very
brave to suggest it. If you do not come out of the sheriff’s
office, we’ll know that something is wrong and be ready to shoot
the outlaws as they try to escape. It’s a great plan.”

Joshua shook his
head unhappily.

“On your head be
it,” he said.

9

Louis entered the
sheriff’s office and shut the door behind him.

Sheriff
Anthony Lawton looked up from the report he was writing. A look of
surprise flitted briefly across his features when Louis removed his
bandana, but Lawton caught himself and corrected his face into a
business-like visage.

“Can I help you?”

“I
hope so. I’m here for Richard Parker.”

“You from the
Marshall’s office?” asked Lawton surprised.

“No.”

Suddenly Lawton was
looking down the barrel of a Colt Peacemaker.

“I’m his friend.
Get the keys for Richard’s cell.”

Lawton
hesitated for a moment. His first thought was that he could make a
move to get the drop on the gunman. But, almost as quickly, he knew
it would be hopeless. He would be dead before his hands disappeared
below the top of his desk.

“He
must be a good friend for you to risk your life for him like this.”

“He is. He’s
good enough to kill for, so get a move on.”

“The
key’s in my drawer.” Lawton flicked his eye down at a drawer
beside him.

“Stand!
Slowly. With your hands high.”

Lawton did as he was
told.

“Using your finger
and thumb, slowly place your gun on the desk.”

Lawton,
with his eyes fixed on the gunman, very carefully removed his
revolver from its holster and laid it on his desk.

“Step back!”

Lawson
pushed his chair out of the way with his leg and stepped away from
the desk.

Louis stepped
forward and placed Lawton’s gun into his own holster.

“Good. Which
drawer are the keys in?”

“Top, right.”

Louis
walked around the desk and opened the drawer. He looked up at Lawton
with a wry grin and took the gun out of the drawer. He stuffed it
into the front of his trousers and picked up a bunch of keys.

“These them?”

Lawton nodded. Louis
tossed the keys at him.

“Let’s go.”

Louis
followed Lawton to the back of the building. Richard Parker was in
the second cell. He was lying on his bunk and lifted his hat from his
face when he heard the approaching footsteps and the jangle of keys.

“He’s
here,” he said to the person dozing in the other bunk.

Marcus
Spencer sat up and flinched. He pressed his hand to his side as he
looked through the bars. He stood up and went to the barred entrance
to the cell.

“Howdy Louis.”

“Marcus,”
Louis responded, in greeting. He gave Richard a silent nod. Richard
responded in kind.

“You crazy
sons-of-bitches,” scowled Lawton. “Do you expect to get away with
this?”

“No,”
responded Richard, as he got up from his bunk, “but it’s better
than hanging around waiting for a rope to tighten around our necks.”

“You
knew he was coming to get you all along?” asked Lawton, as he
unlocked the barred cell gate.

“Of course.”

“No
wonder you’ve been so relaxed about the whole affair of being
locked up.”

“You
bet. I’m going to hunt her down like the bitch she is. Her last
acts are going to be to apologise for the murder of Billy and then to
plead for her life.”

“Your
brother’s death was clearly a case of self-defence,” Lawton said,
acerbically.

“That might be the
view of your court, Lawton, but that is not going to save her.”

“Let’s
hope, then, that you get caught first.”

Richard
grunted at Lawton. He stepped aside, gesticulated into the cell and
said to Lawton, “In!”

“What
about him?” Lawton asked looking at Marcus. “He’s wounded. The
doctor said he should keep still until the wound has healed a bit.”

“Don’t worry
about me,” replied Marcus. “I’ll manage.”

“I said in!”
repeated Richard.

Lawton frowned
unhappily, but walked into the cell.

Richard shut and
locked the gate.

“Let’s
go,” he said.

The
three of them started to return to the main office.

“Hey what about
me!” the occupant of the first cell called out.

Louis stopped and
looked at the man.

“What about you?”

“You’re not just
going to leave me here, are you?”

“Who’s he?”
Louis asked Richard.

“Robert Blessett.”

“You’re
kidding.”

“No,” said
Robert proudly. “He’s not.”

Louis stepped up to
the bars and with the speed of a viper reached in and grabbed the
shirt of the man. He pulled Robert up against the bars.

“You
are one of the lowest forms of life on this planet. So, yes, I do
intend to leave you where you are. You’re lucky I don’t just
shoot you here and now, but that would be the easy option. I like the
idea of you anticipating a rope around your neck and the sensation of
it tightening and choking the life from you.”

“You
son-of-a-bitch,” Robert snarled back at him. “If I ever get out
of here alive, you will be the first person I’ll hunt down and
leave to the coyotes.”

Louis flung him
away.

“You can try. I’m
even tempted to let you out, so you can.”

“Come on then!”
Robert yelled at him. “Any time!”

“I
don’t have time to waste.”

“You’re
yellow! That’s why you won’t do it! You’re a coward.”

Louis panned his
Colt at Robert.

“Do
not try my
patience!”

Robert narrowed his
eyes at Louis.

“Watch your back,
snowman, because someday you going to get a bullet in it.”

Marcus
spluttered. “Snowman! What a great name! We should call Louis that,
don’t you think, Richard?”

Richard grinned.

Louis
scowled at him. “You can try.”

“It would fit your
nature, as well,” retorted Marcus, “Cold!”

“We’re
wasting time,” said Richard.

Ignoring the curses
that erupted from Robert, they continued into the main office.

“Right,”
said Richard, “Let’s find our weapons and get out of here.”

10

Bradly
suddenly felt very scared. He looked back at the bank. He could see
the heads of the men through the bank’s windows. They had opened
them so that they could shoot through them. He could vaguely hear
Jimmy barking like mad. He and Jimmy were hardly ever separated and
Jimmy was making sure everyone in the bank knew that he was not
pleased with this forced separation. Bradley turned back to the door.
He took a deep breath and put his hand on the door handle, turned it
slowly and quietly pushed the door ajar and gingerly stepped into the
sheriff’s office. He started to close the door, but then stopped.
His heart leapt to his mouth. Something was definitely
wrong.

In
the far corner, three men were gathered around a big cupboard. They
seemed to be loading guns. The sheriff was nowhere to be seen. The
men’s attention was focussed fully on what they were doing. They
had not noticed him. As quietly as he could, he stepped back to
leave. He had found out that something was wrong and, now, he had the
chance to sneak out again. Then he stopped.

If
he reappeared the men in the bank would think that everything was
okay. He could run across to the bank and tell them, but that would
take time and might allow the outlaws to escape. He had to stay. He
gulped, and with his voice trembling with fear, said, “Excuse me,
where’s the sheriff?”

Before
he had even finished speaking, he had four guns pointing at him.
Bradley shot his hands in the air. The bottle he was holding fell to
the floor with a loud clunk and rolled across the gritty, wooden
floor.

“Shit,
boy! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” exclaimed
Marcus.

“What you want?”
demanded Richard.

“I
… I … I … erm … w-whiskey. F-for the s-sheriff.”

Marcus
laughed. “A bit of bribery for the law, hey?”

Louis strode over to
the boy.

“Pick it up,” he
ordered.

Bradley
scampered across the floor and picked up the bottle. Louis grabbed
him by the arm. He half dragged and half carried Bradley towards the
second cell.

“Bring the keys,”
he ordered.

Marcus
snatched them from the desk and followed.

“Someone to join
you,” Louis announced.

“Bradley?” said
Lawton astonished. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He stood up from the
bunk and strode to the bars.

Bradley winked at
him.

“Mister Swartz
asked me to bring your whiskey,” he said holding the bottle for
Lawton to see.

“What, Huh?”

Bradley winked at
him again.

“Your
whiskey, sheriff.”

“Oh, my whiskey.”

Bradley nodded
emphatically.

Marcus
opened the gate. Louis roughly shoved Bradley in. Lawton bent down
and swept the boy into his protective arms. The iron gate slammed
shut and was locked. Louis and Marcus stamped back to the main
office.

“What’s going
on?” whispered Lawton.

“Mister Swartz and
the others are waiting outside for the outlaws,” Bradley whispered
back.

“Why are you
here?”

“To
find out what’s happening. If I don’t go out again, Mister Swartz
and the others will know the outlaws are trying to escape and be
ready for them.”

“What!
Joshua sent you in here? He put you in danger! I’ll have his balls
when this is over!”

11

“Ready?” asked
Louis.

The two men nodded.

“Follow
me.”

With
his gun at the ready, Louis strode to the door and opened it. He
stepped out into a hail of bullets. Instinctively, he threw himself
back, bowling Richard and Marcus over, and slammed the door shut.

“Jesus Christ!”
cursed Marcus.

“You seem to have
attracted a lot of attention,” yelled Lawton, with amusement.

“But
they can’t shoot straight,” he countered, looking cautiously out
of the window. “None of them hit me.”

“How many do you
think there are?” asked Richard, as he guardedly examined the
building opposite.

“Difficult
to say. Five, maybe six.”

“Enough,
even for men who can’t shoot straight, to have a lucky shot,”
observed Marcus. “We could use the sheriff as a hostage. Use him to
cover us as we get to the horses.”

“He’ll slow us
down,” reflected Louis. “And when we mount the horses, we’ll
still be vulnerable.”

“Louis
is right,” nodded Richard. “Where are the horses, Louis?”

“Next
door. In front of the general store. It’ll only take seconds to get
to them.”

“Good.
So we’ll use the sheriff as a distraction. We’ll send him out to
speak to them, to tell them to put their guns down, to stop them from
getting hurt. While he’s talking, we’ll run for it. It’ll take
them a few seconds to realise what’s happening and, even then,
they’ll hesitate to shoot in case they hit the sheriff. That should
give us enough time to mount and be off. We’ll ride north, up Main
Street, towards the hotel, and out that way. Okay?”

Louis and Marcus
nodded.

“We
should take Blessett,” suggested Louis.

“What?” said
Marcus. “Are you kidding? After what just happened.”

Richard looked at
Louis, a quizzical expression resting on his features.

“He’ll
be an extra target,” said Louis. “They’ll have four people to
shoot at, instead of three. He’ll draw some of their fire. It would
increase our chances of escaping.”

“You
don’t mean give him a gun?” asked Marcus, doubtfully.

“We’ll have to,”
replied Louis. “Why would he come otherwise?”

“Cause he might
escape.”

“He’s a gunman.
He’d never agree to get into a shooting situation without having
his own gun. I wouldn’t,” said Louis.

“You’d be happy
for him to have a gun?” asked Richard.

“Not happy, but …”
Louis shrugged.

“Okay, but Marcus
you’ll lead.”

Marcus frowned.

“Louis
can’t have Blessett at his back,” Richard explained. “Even with
us helping him escape, that scumbag is still likely to put a bullet
in Louis’ back. So you lead. Blessett follows you, then Louis, then
me. If Louis sees Blessett even point his gun in your direction,
Louis’ll plug him.”

“It would be my
pleasure.”

Marcus thought about
it for a moment.

“Okay,” he
shrugged. “How do I know which horses are ours?”

“You’ll
recognise them. They’re the ones you rode into town on.”

“They are?”

“Uh-huh.
I bought them back from the livery owner. No use leaving good horses
behind.”

Marcus winked at
him.

“Good thinking,
Louis.”

12

Richard prodded
Lawton with the barrel of his gun.

“Okay
sheriff, you know what to do. And give it your best shot. We’re
desperate and killing you adds nothing to what is likely to happen to
us if we don’t get away.”

Lawton
looked into Richard’s eyes. They were like stone. God-damn it,
thought Lawton, what happened to my nice peaceful job, my nice
peaceful town? He was about to put himself between some twitchy,
trigger-happy townsfolk and a bunch of hardened killers. If he got
out of this alive, he’d give serious consideration to retiring.
Life as the sheriff of Wellhead was just getting too dangerous.

“Sure,” he said.
“I’ll make sure they put down their weapons and let you ride out
of town.”

He looked at the
weapons in Marcus’ hands.

“You taking my
guns?”

“Only
temporarily.” Marcus grinned at him. “I’ll leave them outside
for you once I’ve finished with them.”

“Good. They were
presents.”

“I’ll look after
them for you.”

“Get on with it,”
said Richard impatiently.

Lawton
placed his hand on the door handle and started to open it. The door
was immediately splattered with bullets. He howled in shock. Richard
pulled him aside and slammed the door shut.

“You get hit?”
Richard asked.

Lawton examined
himself. He was shaking.

“I don’t think
so.”

“Good. Try again.”

Lawton looked at
him. Really? he thought.

Richard flicked his
gun barrel at him.

Lawton looked at the
others. Louis and Marcus were stony-faced.

Robert gave him a
grin.

“Go
on Sheriff,” he mocked. “Go have parley with your mates.”

Standing
behind the protection of the brickwork, Lawton reached forward,
turned the handle and pulled the door ajar. A fusillade of bullets
burst through it.

He
stepped out and walked to the edge of the boardwalk. Behind the
windows of the bank he could see the heads of his supposed rescuers
bobbing about.

“Now
you folks listen to me,” he shouted across the street. “We’ve
four men in here that know how to use guns, unlike you bunch of
half-wits. Now I’ve made a deal with them and we have …”

Lawton
almost leapt from his skin as the air behind him exploded with the
crack of a Colt as six shots went off in rapid succession. Bullets
whipped past his head and a window in the bank shattered. Beside it,
the brickwork erupted in little puffs of brick-dust. The heads at the
windows disappeared. Lawton heard a thump at his feet. He looked
down. It was his Colt.

“Thanks,”
shouted Marcus.

Lawton
turned to see his prisoners sprinting from him, past the front of his
office. The outlaws’ boots thumped on the rough wood of the
boardwalk and their guns snapped angrily.

“God-damn!”
Lawton shouted and threw himself onto the dusty road.

Lawton
saw his other gun thump in the dirt of the street near him.

Marcus pointed at a
horse.

“Take
that one,” he yelled at Robert.

He
ran to another one and snatched the reins. He leapt up into the
saddle and drew his gun. He noted with glee that, so far, not a
single bullet had been shot at them. He dragged his mount’s head
round and drove his spurs into the animal’s flanks. It leapt
forward. Robert followed him, yelling with excitement. As Louis
gained his saddle a bullet whizzed past his ear. He turned and
emptied his cylinder at the building. He holstered his gun, pulled
his horse around and spurred it on down the road. He raised his
second Colt from its holster and blasted five rounds at the bank, and
then spurred his horse on. Richard was not far behind.

Louis returned his
Colt to its holster. One round left, he thought, and I know what
that’s going to be used for. His eyes fell on the back of the
departing Robert Blessett.

13

Lawton
lifted his face from the dirt and watched the outlaws gallop away in
clouds of dust. He stood up slowly and bashed the dust from his
clothes with his hat. Six men came running from the bank. Joshua
stopped in front of him, his shot gun hung limply at his side. Lawton
looked at Joshua’s shotgun.

“I
don’t suppose the shot of your god-damned gun even reached them,”
he said acerbically.

He
looked down the road. The outlaws were gone. The only evidence of
them was the settling dust they had left behind.

“No-one
thought to take their horses and hide them, then?” he said to
no-one in particular.

No-one responded.

Lawton turned his
eyes on Philippe.

He
gave him a Gallic shrug; his lips stuck out and his palms turned
towards Lawton.

“We going after
them?” asked Joshua.

Lawton glared at
him.

“No,
we’re not!”

“We’re
not?”

“No.
Good riddance. That’s what I say. If we go after them, they’ll
just shoot at us. And if we do manage to catch them, we’d only have
to bring them back to Wellhead. And the last thing we need in our
town is more god-damned outlaws!”